


Of Stars and Suns

by orlofthesky



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, Character Study, Domestic Bliss, Dorne, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Idiots in Love, Infidelity, Intimacy, M/M, May Contain Traces of Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Canon, Prequel, Rare Pairings, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Slice of Life, Tower of Joy, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 20:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12417441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orlofthesky/pseuds/orlofthesky
Summary: here is the deepest secret nobody knows(here is the root of the root and the bud of the budand the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which growshigher than soul can hope or mind can hide)and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart(-- e.e.cummings: i carry your heart with me)One hazy summer night in an old watchtower on the Prince's Pass in Dorne, Oberyn Martell finds himself madly in love with his paramour of many years.





	Of Stars and Suns

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Game of Thrones belongs to me of course. I've bought all the books and all the bluerays and I've even kept the receipts in case GRRM or HBO want to complain. *scnr*
> 
> I cannot believe that Arthur/Oberyn isn't a thing yet ... only one other story, seriously fandom?! XD 
> 
> Oh well, here goes, my take on my very favourite Dornishmen, a companion piece to [The Poet and the Knight](http://archiveofourown.org/series/809763) which should provide some backstory (also, I wanted to see poor Arthur happy before I torture him some more), but it can also be read as a standalone.
> 
> This is obviously a couple of years before Arthur joins the Kingsguard, shortly after Oberyn returned from Oldtown with Obara. I'm bad at timelines and ages and I'm still not sure whether I've aged up everyone in my headcanon which is book and show and all over the place because reasons, so feel free to imagine whatever you are comfortable with. 
> 
> Oberyn is notoriously bad at priorities and sorting out his love life (readers ot TPATK already know how this plays out in the long run), but somehow he can't help himself. If you're uncomfortable with mentions of infidelity and badly managed poly tendencies this story might not be for you.
> 
> Have fun with this story! :-) I'm looking forward to hearing from you in the comments.

Oberyn Martell reclined, idly swirling a cup of wine in his hands, adoringly gazing up at his paramour. The flickering light of the torches cast mysterious warm shadows onto the relief of his perfectly toned body, the prominent shapes of his muscles and the ragged edges of his scars, painting his pale skin and his fair hair in a golden hue that made him look more salty than stony in appearance. Oberyn smirked, licking his lips in anticipation. Ser Arthur Dayne was easily one of the most handsome men in Dorne and now he was standing before him with a bare chest and bare feet wearing naught but tight leather breeches, and more importantly, Ser Arthur Dayne was _his_. Paramour was the simplest way to describe their relationship and yet he found the word somewhat lacking. Arthur was his lover and his lifelong friend, a second father to his daughters, and Oberyn would have married him in a heartbeat had either of them been born a girl, and not only to put his parents out of their misery that was finding a suitable match for their wayward son.

“Oberyn.” Arthur’s chuckle was humming in the lush sweet air, the mock exasperated roll of his eyes clearly audible. “What have you done?”

“It is a beautiful summer night,” he said by ways of explanation, “The perfect night to make love under the stars.”

He had dragged a lush featherbed outside, together with a flagon of wine and some decadent fruit, onto a small ledge that wasn’t quite a balcony and had certainly served a different purpose back in the day when the tower had still been in use as a watchtower. Crickets were chirping all around, and in the distance a shadowcat howled.

Arthur sank to his knees, slowly settling himself next to Oberyn on the mattress placing one hand onto his hip and reaching for the flagon of wine with the other, and he was smiling without inhibition. Oberyn had to admit he loved his smiles, rare as they might be in a man who was all well-contained ferocity and grim duty outwardly. More often than not these smiles, shining like dawn's first light and with a loving twinkle dancing in deep violet eyes, were directed towards their daughters but tonight he was lucky enough to find himself on the receiving end. Oberyn reached out to swipe a stray wisp of pale hair behind his ear and when it was done his palm just stayed there, tentatively playing with his earlobe, feeling the rough stubble on his high cheekbones and a flush underneath, making the connection.

“I have missed you.”

“And I you.”

Arthur’s voice was sincere, it always was, it was one of these annoying, endearing details he loved best about him. They complimented each other so well, Oberyn realised not for the first time. Where Oberyn was dark Arthur was light, where Oberyn was cavalier Arthur was serious, where Oberyn was rash Arthur was pensive, where Oberyn was swaggering Arthur was modest, where Oberyn was weak Arthur was strong, where Oberyn was passionate Arthur was restrained, where Oberyn was wild Arthur was calm.

But tonight Oberyn found himself calm too, at peace even. That’s what Arthur did to him. He took his hand, raising it to his lips, reverently kissing his palm, pressing it to his face, and somehow he knew that Arthur’s usual restraint would not be of any consequence tonight. That’s what Oberyn did to him.

Arthur pulled him up against his chest, skin to tingling skin, enveloping him in a tight embrace. Their eyes, brimming with emotion and desire, locked for a long moment before they finally kissed. It was their first kiss in nearly half a year, the first proper kiss in more than half a day since their reunion, and only now did Oberyn realise how much he’d craved it. Craved _him_. He had obviously kissed a lot of people during their time apart but none had tasted quite like the man he loved, and when they met again the girls had been there and it had been pecks and smacks and hugs and nuzzles and glee and so much love, but not … _this_. Heavy breathing matching his own, becoming more erratic by the minute, a calloused hand carding through his hair, plump lips devouring his mouth, the heady taste of his tongue, the promise of what was to come when even the most intense kiss wouldn’t be enough anymore.

Arthur traced the sharp line of Oberyn’s chin with one finger, gazing at him with appreciation. “I like the beard,” he said huskily.

“I’ll keep it then.”

Oberyn reached up, pulling Arthur in for another kiss before he picked up their glasses of wine again, leaning back against his chest with a contented sigh. Arthur’s arms draped around him, mindlessly drawing patterns onto his chest, making him sigh and shiver. He could feel Arthur’s smile in his hair and his cock hardening against the small of his back, and when he canted his head back to kiss him again his hands were on his breeches, deftly working at the laces. Oberyn wasn’t the only one who shuddered and sighed.

“Gods, Oberyn …”

Arthur’s teeth were grazing along his ear and his neck, humming with pleasure, eliciting another shiver and another whimper. A part of him wanted to concentrate on that and only that and another part, the larger and more dominant part, wanted to scream at him to _get your hands on my cock already, you bloody tease._

“What do you want?” Arthur rasped, his voice deeper and throatier than usual, his breath bated and hot against his ear, “Tell me, my love.”

“I want …” Oberyn Martell was a creature of want; he desired a great many things and all at once more often than not, and he had never been shy to voice his wishes. He lay back against Arthur’s broad shoulder. “I want everything. I want you, Arthur. I want you inside me. It’s where you belong after all.”

He had lost his virginity like that, years ago when they had still been younglings with croaky voices and patchy facial hair, terribly bad at pretending their desire was mere curiosity and that their connection was but boys being boys. Arthur Dayne had been the first person to kiss him and the first person to bugger him, the first person to tell him that he loved him, breathless and elated, the only person he’d ever told the same, much later, hoarse and emotional.

Oberyn wanted to tell Arthur what it meant to him, what _he_ meant to him … wanted to tell him that despite his insatiable desires and frequent sexual adventures Arthur remained the one and only person he wanted inside his body and inside his heart. It wasn’t about lust, there was nothing in the whole world Oberyn enjoyed as much as a cock up his arse after all, it was about trust and love and surrender and that was entirely Arthur’s, that was theirs and theirs only. But somehow he thought the sentiment would not be appreciated.

He could feel Arthur’s smirk against his temple. “Patience, my love …”

Oberyn was squirming. “Do you have to be so impossibly tender?”

“Yes.” Arthur smirked again, against his lips this time. “Making love under the stars was your idea. If you wanted a quick fuck you could have simply said so.”

Oberyn shivered. He was loath to admit it but he’d had enough quick fucks lately and they had left a lot to be desired. Arthur’s touch, for all that it was sensitive and almost painfully teasing, was devoid of curiosity and fumbling excitement; he was so familiar with Oberyn’s body, attuned to his preferences and his reactions, and that was what made all the difference. _Seven hells …_ of course he wanted a quick fuck, he had been rock hard ever since Arthur had stepped out onto the balcony in his glorious state of undress and the pressure in his loins was about to kill him, but then again he never wanted this to end …

“Changed your mind, have you?”

“No. No, don’t. I haven’t. Don't stop.”

“Then shut up, my love,” Arthur chided softly, running his hand down Oberyn’s waist, leaning over to meet him in another deep and passionate kiss. When they came up for air something wicked was twinkling in his eyes. “No better way to shut you up than with a kiss.”

“Your cock in my mouth maybe?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love me.”

“That I do.”

“And you love having your cock in my mouth.”

“That too.” Arthur gave a boyish giggle. “In your mouth, in your hand, in your arse …”

“Allow me to indulge you, then,” Oberyn said softly, peppering absent-minded kisses along Arthur’s neckline and collarbone, “Allow me to indulge myself, for I have yet to find a cock I enjoy more than yours.”

Arthur winced, his hands tightening around Oberyn’s arm, and the hurt in his voice was blatantly obvious. “But you did …”

“Shush,” Oberyn said, a sudden twinge of sadness and guilt in his voice, “Not now. Let’s fight tomorrow if need be, let’s not ruin tonight.”

Arthur closed his eyes, his handsome even features scrunched in pain, and Oberyn knew that he had to make amends, only he didn’t quite know how. He had promised to change more than once and relapsed every time, then he’d promised to at least not mention it and yet his tongue seemed to work faster than his brain … he flinched, he gulped, he swallowed his shame and his hurt. He hadn't even realised what he'd said.

“Arthur … never doubt my love for you,” he whispered, putting as much sincerity and affection as he could muster into his voice, “Never doubt that I’ve been looking forward to tonight for quite some time … I’ve missed you, my beloved. I’ve missed talking to you and waking up with you and laughing with you and kissing you and you better believe I’ve missed that magnificent cock of yours too.”

“I'm glad,” Arthur mumbled, touching his cheek with a gesture that could be interpreted as forgiveness or as a truce at least, and then they were kissing again.

Why he wasn’t more driven with passion, ready to pounce Arthur and devour him whole, Oberyn didn’t quite understand and it was disconcerting. All that talk of cocks and indulgences, all the desire he’d harboured, and yet he was perfectly happy just to laze in his paramour’s embrace and revel in his closeness, tender caresses and languid kisses and the occasional sweet word. He hadn’t even noticed how much he had craved this … laying back and listening to his lover’s heartbeat, feeling whole and thoroughly sated before anything had really come to pass.

Arthur was kneeling beside him now, running his calloused palms over his whole body as if he were mapping him, reacquainting himself with every ridge and every soft expanse, every scar and every smattering of hair, tracing his silhouette with gentle fervour, purposefully evading the most sensitive parts of him.

Oberyn’s dark skin broke out in gooseflesh, his toes curled and his eyes fluttered shut as arousal flashed through his body, and more than that. He felt cherished, worshipped even, with an ardour that was evident in every touch and in Arthur’s lilac eyes that had turned dark with lust, never once leaving Oberyn’s body. He sighed, reaching out to touch his lover, but his hands were firmly put aside.

“Patience, my love.”

His hands moved further, stroking down his muscled thighs and his hairy calves, sensually and appreciative, finally pausing to massage his feet. Oberyn let out a sigh, Arthur kissed the ball of his toe. By the time he was at the hips again, Oberyn’s cock was painfully hard and throbbing, angrily red and weeping for release, and his balls were about to burst.

“Arthur,” he rasped, pleading.

Arthur only gave a wily smirk, continuing his ministrations while ignoring the one organ that needed his touch the most. By the time he stopped to flick his thumbs over his nipples Oberyn was thrashing under him, by the time he ran his palms down his side he had lost all control. Oberyn spent himself with a deep moan, clawing into the bedsheets, his lover’s name on his lips.

Only when he noticed Arthur’s self-satisfied smirk did he realise that his cock and his balls remained untouched, not even once, not even close. His breath caught, the thought alone made him shudder and he surged up, pulling Arthur into a searing kiss that was all teeth and tongue and raw emotion and the afterglow of an intense orgasm. _Seven hells_ , that man was incredible, and even after all these years he never ceased to amaze him. _How does he do it? How does he figure out_ _how_ _to surprise me?_ He knew better than to ask. Oberyn himself obviously picked up tricks and twists from his plethora of bedmates, Arthur on the other hand had never lain with anyone but Oberyn. He had never said as much, of course, but it was obvious enough for anyone who knew him. Sometimes Oberyn even wondered why he felt the need to conquer the beds of strangers and whores when there was someone so perfect right by his side, someone who pleased him like no other time and time again, someone who cherished him for more than purely physical reasons. But for some reason it couldn’t be helped, and he was unwilling to ponder it any further, not when the evidence of his satisfaction was running stickily down his lover’s chest and his fingers were finally, _fucking finally_ , curled around his softening cock.

Next he knew Oberyn was shoving Arthur back into the featherbed and then his mouth was around his cock, drinking in his heady scent, tracing the thick veins with his tongue, cautiously grazing his teeth along the underside of the tip, threading his fingers through the smattering of silvery hair along his belly.

Arthur hummed with pleasure, gasping and moaning. When he felt his belly tighten he stopped, ghosting a chaste kiss to the tip of his cock when he broke the contact. Arthur whimpered in protest as Oberyn smoothly snuck up to face him, touching his lips that were swollen from kissing and parched from erratic panting.

“Gods, don’t do this to me,” he whimpered needily, “Oberyn, you can’t just … don’t stop.”

He placed a finger against Arthur’s lips, one that was quickly caught between teeth, greedily licking and sucking. “All’s fair in love and war,” he whispered hoarsely, “Arthur, I love the taste of you, but right now …”

He pulled Arthur into a tight embrace, cupping his shapely arse and allowing for some friction of their cocks when their groins touched, Arthur’s throbbing wantonly against Oberyn’s. Arthur’s hands, for all that they were incredibly calm and collected only moments before when he had been all but torturing Oberyn, were trembling, grasping and urgently pulling him even closer.

“I need to be in you,” Arthur gasped into the nape of his neck.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Oberyn said teasingly as Arthur’s hands were already stroking his arse, finding their way towards the cleft, “Be thorough, beloved. It’s been a while.”

“What?” Arthur gasped, kneading a muscled arsecheek, flicking his thumb over the puckered flesh.

“I’m yours, all yours,” he murmured, and it was the last thing he said for a long while.

The night smelt of jasmine oil and seed and Arthur who was licking at him in abandon, taking his sweet time to prepare him for their actual joining. Oberyn’s hands were in his hair for guidance and leverage, and it never ceased to amaze him how bringing his lover pleasure made Arthur moan and writhe himself. With Arthur’s nimble tongue boring into his arse and his calloused sword-hands coaxing his cock back to another round, Oberyn wanted to scream. When Arthur sat back on his knees, licking his lips and pouring some more oil in his hand, Oberyn wanted to burst. Their eyes locked and Arthur rocked back, making a delicious little spectacle of oiling his cock, slow and deliberate and oh so erotic. Oberyn hurried to align their bodies, reaching up to touch his cheek.

“I love you,” he murmured right before Arthur slowly pressed into him.

Oberyn gasped, biting his lip, grasping Arthur's hands for leverage and closeness both, twining their fingers together as Arthurrocked his hips for the first time. A cool breeze picked up, caressing their sweating bodies, Oberyn found himself shivering as Arthur gave a soft moan.

They stayed like this for a long time, barely moving, revelling in each other, their eyes locked and their faces aflame with silly smiles and their bellies hot with arousal, and then, without forewarning, Arthur canted his hips to reach the sweet spot deep within Oberyn, and he cried out, clawing into his milky white shoulder, bucking up to accommodate him. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh, the sound of Arthur’s ecstatic groans, the white-hot feeling of Arthur’s engorged cock deep inside him, it was all that he wanted and more than he could bear.

Arthur paused for a moment, leaning down to kiss Oberyn, and he knew exactly what it meant. Arthur could not take it much longer. It was so well-rehearsed it came natural to them now.

“Together?” he breathed against Oberyn’s lips.

Oberyn reached behind him, cupping his bum and pulling him closer, holding his fingertips to the puckered flesh of his entrance. In the meantime Arthur’s hand encircled Oberyn’s cock, ready to pump his fist in the same rhythm he moved his hips.

“Together,” Oberyn said, and it meant something entirely different at the moment.

“I love you,” Arthur said before the whole world came crashing asunder with one last thrust.

Riding out his pleasure he filled Oberyn with his hot seed while Oberyn’s spurted in milky white ribbons onto Arthur’s chest and belly again. They were holding hands while they waited for the aftershocks of a shattering orgasm to subdue, revelling in their closeness, unwilling to part. _This might be my favourite part of it_ , a thought formed at the frayed edge of Oberyn’s coherence: feeling Arthur's hot release pumping into him and his manhood going limp inside him, slipping out to curl up on his chest when the lust subdued and the intimacy prevailed, leaving Oberyn full and sated with his seed and his love. Something inside his chest tightened at the thought.

“Let’s stay here a little longer,” Arthur said softly, his fingers lazily strumming at the side of Oberyn’s ribcage.

“Mhhh … what?” Oberyn mumbled into his hair, “Yes we could I guess. The weather’s fair enough to sleep outside.”

“Yes, that too. But that’s not what I meant.” Arthur’s foot ran down his calf, entangling their legs. “Let’s not return to Sunspear quite yet. We’ve been apart for so long. Let’s stay here at the tower, spend some time together … just the four of us.”

It was tempting, Oberyn had to give him that.

“Mother will not be pleased. Also there’s shadowcats in these parts, it might not be safe for the girls.”

“She has other lackeys, and other grandchildren too. She can do without us for a while longer. And I promise to hunt and kill every shadowcat that tries to eat my daughters or my man. Rumour has it I’m quite a passable swordsman after all.”

Oberyn laid three fingers to Arthur’s chin, lifting his head to face him with an amused smirk. “Do you even realise you’re sounding like me?”

Arthur’s laugh was deep and rumbling, vibrating against Oberyn’s skin. “You’re a terrible influence, Oberyn Martell, and you know it … so don’t even try to be all sensible. Just admit you want to stay too.”

Oberyn acquiesced with a deep sigh. “Alright, you’re right. I want to stay with you.”

He turned over for a soft kiss and the decision was made silently, with a touch of lips instead of words. The torches had died down by now and they finally gazed up at the stars, slowly but steadily rekindling their fire. The night wasn’t over yet after all and it would be the first of many more to come …

Within the tower a babe’s wail interrupted their satisfied haze.

“Gods damn it,” Oberyn groaned, scrambling up reluctantly.

“Stay,” Arthur said softly, placing a hand on his chest. “Judging from the looks of you, you can’t even stand up straight right now. And you certainly can’t remember the words to the bear song she loves so much.”

“You’re right. I’m thoroughly fucked.” Oberyn grinned, “Thank you. For the thorough fuck, and for taking nightmare duty.”

“Always.” Arthur wiped down his torso with the sleeve of Oberyn’s discarded tunic before he shrugged on his robe, and for all that he looked like some ancient Valyrian god with hair like spun starlight and silks the colour of his eyes, Valyrian gods didn’t usually scramble out of bed to chase away night terrors for little warrior princesses – or did they? “Make yourself comfortable, my love, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Oberyn sat back, leaning into the cool stone wall, stretching his legs and helping himself to some wine while he absent-mindedly listened to Arthur’s soft voice carrying over, all soothing words and lullabies. Arthur took way longer than a minute, and when he returned he had Nymeria in his arms, drowsy and whining, clinging to his neck and refusing to sleep. He awkwardly shifted her to his shoulder when he sat back down, settling into Oberyn’s embrace. His paramour and his younger daughter had been inseparable from the very first day and watching them together always made his heart clench something fierce.

“Oh sweetling,” Oberyn whispered, leaning over to caress her cheek, “What about Bara?”

“Snoring like an aurochs.” Arthur chuckled fondly. “You couldn’t deny her even if you tried. That girl is definitely yours.”

Oberyn swatted his arm with an indignant huff before he leaned in to kiss Nymeria’s curly head and then Arthur’s cheek. There would be no more starlit lovemaking of course, at least not tonight, but Oberyn found he didn’t care much. Overwhelmed with love and gratitude he watched Arthur fall asleep long before Nymeria did.

**Author's Note:**

> Sneak preview for TPATK readers ... yes, this is why I'm slow with updates, because I'm kinda-sorta writing the story from back to front. But here's something to look forward to:
> 
> Lyanna sat at long last, stretching her back and unlacing her boots after the long ride. She carelessly tossed her filthy stockings into the corner of the room, furling and unfurling her toes, and then she patted her hand to the mattress with a sigh that wasn’t as exhausted as it should be.  
> “Do you think they made love right here?”  
> “What? Who?” Rhaegar, still fumbling with the buttons on his doublet, furrowed his brow and gave her a confused stare.  
> “The happy couple Arthur was telling us about earlier, they who named this place the Tower of Joy? By the by, I still think you should write a song about them one day, it’s a frightfully romantic story.” Her eyes went all cloudy and dreamy, a girlish flicker that welled up every once in a while, and it was only since she’d met Rhaegar that she had stopped to feel ashamed about that side of her. She was busying herself pulling the pins from her hair, holding them between her lips, so her speech was blurred and unclear but the innuendo twinkling in her eyes was unmistakable. “The howl of shadowcats was in the air most nights, Arthur said … _as if!_ So what do you think, did they make love right here, howling like shadowcats?”  
>  “Many times, presumably. They were in love after all.” Rhaegar shrugged and then he blanched, his eyes going wide and his cufflinks dropping to the floor with a hysterical clatter. “Oh Gods! Ew … of course they did. _Many times. Right here._ Ewww!”  
>  “What is it, darling? Are you quite alright?” Lyanna laughed nervously, unable to conceal her irritation.  
> Rhaegar sighed, covering his eyes in distress. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, and you should make sure never to mention it, but … one half of the happy couple was Arthur himself.”  
> “Oh.” Now Lyanna’s eyes went wide and she flinched, all but leaping up from the bed. “Ew!”


End file.
